Solitarily
by lynn.reist
Summary: Why are we doing this to ourselves? Surrounded, they are alone. Previously 'To Stand on your Own', rewritten and reposted .
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **_I apologize to those of you who have already read this. There have been minor plot changes and it has been reedited for spelling and grammar. A big thank you to Quiet N Cryptic, who graciously beta'd this beat for me._

_Again, I apologize for deleting and reposting, but I wasn't happy with it before. _

_Enjoy!

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_Unattended._

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"Why are we doing this to ourselves?" he asks, voice trembling breathlessly between kisses. His lover laughs, but the sound falls dead, weighted in the lull. It is crushed and forgotten when their lips crash together once more, and they inhale one another like air, as if their survival depends on it.

Their clothing is ritually removed; the process much faster than it had been when their dance had first begun. They were unpractised, modest, and hesitant, although the hesitancy, in theory, still remains, it does not reflect physically as hands move urgently over naked skin.

"Vincent..." Her lips hardly move as she sighs his name, fingers threading through his mane of onyx hair.

His eyes shift closed painfully, the sadness in her voice echoing in his ears. "I'm sorry," he says, yet his teeth graze an erect nipple, making her gasp and arch toward him. His fingers stroke her folds, already wet for him; one presses inside of her, and then another. "I'm so sorry."

When they move against each other, as a part of each other, the contrast between pleasure and pain is the highest. In the midst of the princess' cries of ecstasy, her body clenching around him, there are tears rolling down and staining pale cheeks.

It never lasted as long as they would have liked; they didn't have enough time in order to extend their rendezvous infinitely. He never stays until morning, and she never asks him to. They both know it is impossible, but for a moment they hold each other, lips tasting sweat slicked skin in the afterglow of what could potentially have been their last night together.

"Why do we do this?" he whispers, fingers dancing over her collar bone, as he gazes at her pert breasts; her chest rises and falls as she tries to catch her breath and stop her sobs.

She shakes her head, not knowing the answer. "It hurts so fucking much," she admits, her hand tangling in his hair. She pulls him close and plants a desperate kiss on his forehead. "But I..."

"Don't say it," he hisses. His hand reaches up and a finger slips over her lips. "Please don't say it."

"Love you," she mumbles around it, cool grey eyes holding his. "I love you," she repeats, and he can't stop her from saying it, can't stop her from feeling it. He can't (but he tries, gods, he tries) stop _himself_ from feeling it.

"Do you wish you didn't?" he asks; voice seemingly almost frightened.

"No," she replies. "Do _you_ wish I didn't?"

He hides his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. "Sometimes: it would make convincing myself that this is a bad idea easier."

She laughs softly, but it is sad and lonely, not lively and light like her laughter had once been. "I think you've already convinced yourself of that, Vinnie."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**_ Here's the next chapter! I'm sorry for the wait, I got a little distracted by real life, but from now on the updates will be every Monday =D_

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_Separated._

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The next time they're together, they get caught: because they are careless, because during the course of a familiar conversation, fate took a misleading step.

Panting, the ex-Turk collapses atop his lover, feeling the Wutaiian princess's arms wrap instinctively around him, holding him close. "Why do we do this?"

She still doesn't know the answer. "It hurts so..."

"I love you."

Her eyes widen. It's the first time he's actually spoken the words. "Don't say that," she sobs. "No, Vinnie, don't tell me that." Yet she is gathering him close to her, letting his kisses graze hot against her skin. Her nails drag over his back. "Please don't let me believe you."

"It's true," he says, his voice hot in the crook of her neck.

Her breath catches, and she pauses for a moment before whispering, brokenly, "Do you wish you didn't?" just as he had asked so many times before.

"_Yes_," he says, he _moans,_ because the pain and the pleasure are corroding his skin as her nails scratch welts into his flesh, "and _no_."

She beats a fist hard into the centre of his back and she cries out, the other hand fisting in his hair. "Make up your _mind!_"

His teeth bite down on the crook of her shoulder, making her gasp out again. "It doesn't _matter_," he hisses into her ear, hating the tears that run from her eyes. "Whether or not I _want _to love you will _never matter_, Yuffie."

She's sobbing outwardly now, no longer trying to hold back the shuddering that racks the small frame cradled protectively in his arms. "It matters to me!" She finally screams, pushing back on his shoulders and forcing him away.

Hurt and anger flash in his crimson eyes, those crimson eyes she _swears_ she will never forget each and every time they come together and are forced apart by the coming of the dawn.

"It's time to go," she says, but he doesn't move. _She_ doesn't move; she's too busy memorizing those eyes in case this is the last time she'll ever see him.

"No."

Again, she shoves him, because her anger is the only emotion she can truly understand. "Why not?"

"I love you, Yuffie."

She can't help herself, and though she hates what it's doing to them, she whispers back. "I love you too."

"Do you wish you didn't?"

Curious, she peers at him through half lidded eyes. "No," she replies, as she has replied every time he has asked her. Every time it is truth.

His hand cups her face, thumb smearing the eyeliner that has run in tracks down her face due to the tears _he_ had caused. "Neither do I," he whispers, and she realizes he's much closer than he had been half a second ago.

"Vincent..."

His lips ensnare hers in a gentle kiss, and she is guided back, back, back into the pillows, pinned beneath him, as once again their fire rekindles.

"Lady Kisaragi?"

Neither are sure they heard it; neither want to believe it's true, and besides, it wouldn't be the first time either of them picked out a sound from outside the sanctity of Yuffie's bedroom only to find it a figment of their over-active, over-protective, imaginations.

"Princess?" It's much closer this time; too close to belong to a spectre of their nightmares. "There's someone else in there!"

They are staring at each other when the guard calls from the hallway. Yuffie's eyes, like mercury, widen in shock. Vincent's fall closed, and a curse slips from his lips.

"I demand to know what..." The shoji door slides open, exposing the lovers, exposing the trespasser, exposing a scandal.

"You shall demand _nothing!_"

And suddenly she isn't Yuffie anymore, not _Vincent's _Yuffie. With all of the dignity in her soul she plucks her kimono from the tangle of bedding and clothing they have created and wraps it around herself, rising to her full height. "Who do you think you are?" she demands. She is Wutai's Yuffie, strong and proud and alone.


	3. Chapter 3

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Detached_

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The next time he sees her, she does not look at him. His eyes are scorching into her very soul, but she does not lift hers to grace him with so much as a glance, even when his back is turned. _Why do we do this to ourselves? _ He wonders, asking himself for the thousandth time since he arrived in Wutai _why, why, why_ was he here at all?

Godo had been informed of their affair immediately, of course, and it had only been Yuffie's stamina that had kept him from a worse fate. Vincent had been made to swear to whatever god he found holy that he would never see the princess again, on pain of death. His eyes closed softly and he bowed his head speaking forsaken words. His fingers crossed childishly behind his back as he took the oath.

Even though Yuffie's eyes are trained ahead of her, the lord of Wutai's eyes shift to catch a glimpse of crimson in the crowd as he leads his only daughter, only child, to the altar.

He moves silently through the people, quickly approaching the edge of the aisle, just as the Wutaiin Princess, dressed in a purple wedding kimono, passes him. Faster than he can fathom his hand shoots out and he brushes her fingers, a touch so quick he's almost convinced she hadn't felt it, for her eyes remain fixed ahead of her and do not stray back to the man who had touched her for so fleeting an instant: The man who had loved her for what had felt like so short a time.

_Why do we do this to ourselves_, she ponders, squeezing her burning left hand into a fist at her side. Her skin still tingles from the feel of his leather glove on her skin, and she wonders _why, why, why_ she can't bring herself to look at him. Her feet lead her involuntarily toward the foreign prince of monopoly with clear blue eyes and pretty slicked back blond tresses. What she wouldn't give to gaze upon murky crimson pools and run her hands through a tangled mass of onyx hair, and yet she can't even bring herself to recognize the colour of his cloak.

She knows that Godo has seen him when her father's grip on her becomes a little tighter. She's almost there now; she can see Rufus gazing out upon the masses with his serpentine grin. She imagines his hands are clammy like a snake as well.

She recites her vows like memory verses, things she's learned, but things she cares not about the meaning of. When the official looks at her, asking if she vows to be honest, loving and faithful to this man who would soon be her husband, she closes her eyes briefly and replies, "I do." Behind her back, her fingers are crossed as if she were nine again.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time she sees him, it is at a wedding in Costa del Sol, this time not her own. Tifa wears white, as is tradition when one comes from Niblehiem, and Reeve is wearing a suit that somehow makes him look older and younger than he really is all in the same instant.

Yuffie is a bridesmaid, and Rufus watches from a church pew as two ex-lovers, arm-in-arm walk toward the front of a church, trying not to remember, but doing so vividly. Trying not to imagine, but neither can help but wonder _what if_ when they reach the altar and pause.

Tifa says "I do," and she isn't faking it, and that makes Yuffie cry more than the fact that her friends are happy.

She thinks he knows, when he looks across at her, seeing the eyeliner smudges on her pale cheeks that her tears are for him.

They next time he sees her, it is at the reception, in a resort near the beach. Tifa and Reeve are dancing, so in love. She's watching from the shadows, trying to disguise her pain behind a champagne flute, and most of them believe it. Rufus doesn't, but he doesn't care. Vincent has realized no words about the incident have been shared past the day they were caught, and the only ones who held on to any of the pain were simply he and Yuffie alone.

"Why do we do this to ourselves?"

Her head whips around to find him standing not far behind her, leaning casually on the wall. The champagne in her mouth is swallowed uncomfortably, and she takes a hesitant step away. He winces and retrains himself from reaching for her, because he's been staring at her all day, touching her but not _touching_ her and it hurt _so fucking much_.

She sets her drink down on the nearest table and warily approaches him. "Vincent..."

His eyes close slightly, and he inhales deeply.

"Vincent I..."

"I don't know why I'm here," he says quietly. "It seems I jump at every chance I get to see you."

She remembers her wedding and the feel of his crimson eyes burning holes into her heart.

"Vincent..."

"It hurts," he says, "To see you."

"I'm so sorry."

He can't blame her, he could never blame her, and unlike past loves, she has really done nothing to merit his forgiveness.

"Why?" She asks, voice small, almost frightened. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself? To me?"

His eyes lift to meet hers, and she frantically soaks up their beauty. She never forgot what they looked like, but she refreshes the images anew, in case this is the last time she will ever see him.

"I still love you," he says, and that answers everything.

She feels her knees buckle under the weight of her body; the weight of her guilt. She is thankful for the shadows when he (so much closer than she had remembered) wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her upright, and holding her flush against his body.

"Do you wish you didn't?"

"No," he sighs, lips on the top of her head.

Her fingers clutch the front of his suit, and her eyes squeeze closed.

"And _yes._"

She cannot possibly be angry at him for it this time, and her arms slide around him, holding onto him for dear life.

"Have you been well?"

Her hands clutch at his back. "How can you ask me that?" she asks, her face pressed into his chest and her voice muffled. "How can you _care_ how I've been, when I've done this to you?"

He doesn't reply, but his arms do not release their hold on her.

"I'm no better than _her_," she weeps. "How can you even _look_ at me?"

He's already answered her question once, and she knows it. It was the same reason he had spent so much time in that cave beneath the waterfall before he had learned how to let go. She lifts her eyes and a hand, shaking her head to stop him from repeating himself. She knows he loves her as intensely, as wretchedly; as excruciatingly as she loves him. In his eyes and it shines warmly, sadly.

"You are such a masochist," she utters.

He chokes on a laugh: the most beautiful and broken sound she has heard in a long, long time. Not since they had made love, his soft pants and moans bringing her to tears, had she been so moved by so simple and complex a noise.

There are tears in her eyes now as she gazes up at him, all at once reminded of why her heart yearned so much for him for all of this time. "I've missed you," she squeaks.

His hand caresses her cheek, knuckles brushing away a tear, thumb tracing an eyebrow, exploring the once familiar contours of her face. "Your hair is longer," he murmurs quietly as his fingers sink into it.

She whimpers quietly, loving that he's noticed, feeling his breath on her face, and her eyes flutter closed, but only for a fraction of a second, for they snap back open instantly to make sure he's still there. He is, and he's beautiful.

Her head jerks, and she scans the crowd of celebrating people. Her husband is with his Turks, sitting and talking idly (or so it seemed) at a table. In the centre of the dance floor Barrett and Marlene have joined the bride and groom, and even though twelve is a bit old for these games, the girl is standing on her daddy's toes, letting him guide her around in circles. Cid and Shera dance as well, and for the first time that night she finds the pilot without a cigarette in his mouth. He's looking down at the woman he holds close and he's beaming.

Vincent's hand gently grips Yuffie's chin and he guides her eyes back to his face. "You should go back to him," he says.

Her eyebrows dent together. "Why? He can't see us."

The gunman's lips twist into a frown, and his fingers untangle from her mass of dark hair. "Because, Yuffie." His eyes glint with what looked like a mixture of fear and longing. "You belong to him, not I."

It is those words that break the straw, and a mixture of anger and sadness and desperation makes her grab a fistful of his hair, dragging his lips down onto hers.

It was painful, the kiss. Not physically, although their lips bruise against each other's and teeth bite and tug at whatever they find. Emotionally, however, they wonder what it will be like when the kiss ends: will the desire be slaked or will the need to kiss again be increased tenfold. Both individually decide the only way of solving this is if the first kiss never ends.

But as all things must, it does end. The gunner leans over her, his claw supporting him on the wall behind her, raggedly trying to keep himself together one shaky breath at a time. "You should go back to him," he repeats, and this time is met with a weak fist in his stomach. He doesn't wince.

"_You can't do that_," she hisses, and he can almost smell the tears she is crying for him. "You can't return my entire world for fifteen seconds and then steal it back, Vincent."

"I love you," he says, and both of their hearts sink with the knowledge of their impending separation.

"I love you too," she replies, resignedly. In a fleeting effort, she glances back up at him. "I think about you always," she admits, honestly.

His eyes soften and for a moment, she is afraid he is going to collapse on top of her. He gently rests his forehead on hers, however, and she continues.

"Not a night passes when I don't dream of you," she says, voice quiet and trembling. "I see your eyes whenever I close mine." Her fingers gently touch his cheek. "When I am with Rufus—"

His eyes clench closed, and he beats a fist into the wall. "Stop," he grinds out.

The tears are working their way down her cheeks again and she pets his hair. "Listen, Vincent, listen to me. When I am with Rufus, when he touches me, I close my eyes and I imagine it's _you_."

He makes a strange, deep noise in the back of his throat, and when her exploring fingers find moisture on his cheeks she realizes he is crying.

"I'm sorry, Yuffie," he mutters, voice thick. "Had I spoken to your father, had I put up an argument... You must think me cowardly."

"Vincent, Vincent!" She tries to interrupt him, succeeding finally when she grabs his face in both of her hands. "Do _not_ do this," she begs. "If you love me at all, you will do_ anything _but_ that_."

He knows of what she speaks but his sadness eats at him, searching for an explanation, an excuse.

"If you need to blame something, blame _my father_, blame _Rufus_, fuck, blame _Leviathan_, but this was not your fault, Vincent."

He stands a little straighter and tries to believe her, because there is nothing he wouldn't do for her. "It is... difficult," he concedes.

"I know," she soothes, "but please try."

He loves this about her: she is always saving him, even when her reassuring voice and the gentle touch of her fingers on his face are making the pain _so much worse_. His eyes flicker over her face, the blush on her cheeks, the tears in her eyes, the pinkness of her lips: bruised from their kiss.

He should never have come, but the temptation to see her had been too strong. He should have left after the wedding, but he wanted desperately to hear her voice. He should never have kissed her, but it had been _so long_.

As his fingers bury in her hair, tilting her face up to his, he knows he shouldn't be kissing her again, because this time it will be even harder to let go afterward.

He does it anyway, and he knows by the way that she responds heartily to his tongue's attention, his self-control is the next thing to non-existent.

They break apart harshly, breathing uneven; hearts pounding with desire, with joy, with fear; and shattering instantaneously at the same time. Yuffie's eyes, beautiful, haunting silver orbs, are wide as she stares at him. "We can't do this," she says, but she is helpless against the smouldering look in her ex-lover's eyes.

"You're right," he agrees, lips on her jaw.

"Someone will see us," she insists.

"...Here," he adds.

Her eyes widen as she comprehends his meaning, and despite the fact that her fingers grip tighter to him, she protests; "We can't do this, Vincent. It will hurt _so much more_ after."

Her words ring true, and he kisses her again, finding her lips soft and pliant. "You should go back to him," he says a third time, and this time, she listens.

He takes a step away from her, and within five seconds, they go from lovers to old acquaintances to all but themselves.

Her eyes are filled with tears, but she wipes them away, folding her arms over her chest. "Please remember your promise, Vincent," she says.

"For you," he says, bowing his head. "I will do anything."

She sniffs, and looks away. "Do you remember what I used to tell you, Vincent? When we first met, when you were governed by hurt once before?"

He blinks, and he is afraid he knows all too well.

"Do you remember when you told me that I taught you how to move on?"

He steps toward her, but catches himself just in time.

"Yo, Yuffie." The redhead Turk is strolling casually toward them, smirk on his face. "Didn't think I'd ever find you. Rufus thought you'd be bored: sent me to apologize. He's taking care of some diplomacy and shit with the uppity-ups."

She smiles gratefully. "Thank you, Reno. You remember Vincent Valentine?"

The Turk sticks out his hand, which Vincent blatantly ignores. "Yeah, I remember you. Who doesn't?" He coolly retracts his proffered hand, using it to smooth back his wildly spiky hair.

"So Yuffs, wanna dance or something?"

She smiles warmly, but shakes her head.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You sure? You look pretty bummed." She knows he is talking about her red puffy eyes and make-up streaked cheeks.

She waves it off. "Happy tears. Vincent and I were just talking about how great it is that Reeve and Tifa tied the knot, you know? I guess I got a little over-emotional." She looks to Vincent for support, but he is still staring at her, trying to make sense of her last request of him.

Silver eyes bore into ruby and she makes a final attempt at driving the sentiment home. "He was just telling me about a woman he met, in Kalm."

Vincent's eyes widen.

Reno cocks an eyebrow at the gunslinger.

"She's tall, has pretty green eyes and has the most gorgeous auburn hair." Yuffie can feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she speaks, for nothing has ever caused her to feel as empty as willingly letting go of him: her best friend, her one and only true love. "She's an artist," she continues, voice cracking around the lump in her throat. "And he met her one day when he was forced to go down to the market because he ran out of hair conditioner."

Vincent's heart is pounding in his chest, and he wants so desperately to scream at her, to beg her to stop.

The first tear falls and she sweeps it away quickly.

"Yuffs?"

She waves Reno away a second time. "I'm just so happy for him, you see. He deserves to love someone who can love him back freely." She's sure Reno would relate the statement to Lucrecia, and so continues. "And I told him it would make me very happy if one day he married this girl, and forgot all about the pain in his past." She gulps awkwardly, eyes meeting his and holding his gaze. "I want him to be happy. I need him to be happy: for me."

It was too much; he steps toward her with the intent of taking her by the arm and leading her away from the Turk, to try and talk some sense into her. He would do anything, _anything_ in the world for her: swim the widest ocean, climb to the top of the tallest mountain. He would _die_ for her, but Leviathan help him, he could not do _that_. He could not be happy: not without her.

She avoids him, however, panicked eyes diverting as she steps closer to the man who is now technically her bodyguard. "On second thought, Reno, a dance would be lovely."

He grins a toothy grin, and instead of offering her an arm, like a gentleman, he slings his lanky limb around her shoulders, guiding her away from where the gunner stands, staring dumbfounded at the place where his lover once stood.

Tifa claps her hands merrily, sitting on her husband's knee, watching as her dear friend is spun around the room in the arms of a Turk. Across the room, Rufus looks up; partially interested in the fact that it is his wife dancing, but seeing that it is with Reno he looks unconcerned and goes back to his discussion with the redhead's superior.

No one notices (although Tifa concernedly asks about it later) when Vincent Valentine escapes from the building, the city, the _continent_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**_ Sorry about the wait._

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The next time he even attempts to face the grief of looking at her is at the celebration for the birth of her first daughter, a couple years later. Tifa insisted there be a party held in a bar for a baby, and subsequently everyone was invited. Vincent, being Vincent, very seriously considers not showing up and yet Vincent, being Vincent, wants to see her: craves to feel the familiar sinking feeling of disappointment, wants to make her cry and make her remember why she loved him. He wants her to remember his face, his voice, his touch that same way he vividly remembers hers.

He sits in the far corner of the bar, remembering his reasons for coming, and reminding himself that he is a _very bad man._

She is glowing, holding her tiny baby daughter close to her chest, cooing to her when she cries, and laughing with her when she's happy. Rufus, aloof as ever, stands not far behind his wife, looking, almost curiously over her shoulder at the small bundle of blankets, fists, and chubby pink cheeks.

"So, what's her name?" Shera asks; hands folded in front of her excitedly.

Yuffie looks up, face alight with something foreign. "Uchikatsu," she replies, eyes flickering up, distantly across the room, to where Vincent was sitting. "Katsu for short."

What's left of Vincent's heart shatters; again.

"That's so pretty," Tifa gushes. "What does it mean?"

"To conquer."

He doubts anyone else knows the significance. He never told any of them the meaning of his given name. No one ever seemed to be interested.

Yuffie knew; and that's what made the child's name so difficult to swallow. She had been named after _him_.

"That's a great name for a princess," Cloud was saying.

"C'n I hold 'er?" Barret asks, and there is a great fuss made over Yuffie gently setting the tiny infant in the large man's arms. Tifa takes a picture with the baby and her pseudo uncles: first Barret, then Cid, then Cloud; and promptly starts to cry when the child is transferred into Reeve's arms.

The WRO commissioner looks like a natural father, all smiles as he plays with the infant, grinning when the room 'aww's' as Katsu grabs onto his pinkie. Reeve looks up from the child, into the darkness of the gunslinger's corner. "What do you say, Vincent?"

He hadn't been expecting to be asked, so when he is, he opens his mouth dumbly with no response.

"C'mon, Vincent," Tifa says, waving her camera. "I want a picture of Katsu with her uncle."

His eyebrows draw together, attempting to look intimidating and unapproachable. It works brilliantly, but no one is threatened by his glowering looks anymore. "I am not good with children," he says.

There are a number of protests, including comments on how Marlene adores him. He's steadfast in his refusal, thoughts racing. How could he look upon the child of Yuffie; a child that was sired by Rufus Shinra, when it could have been, _should_ have been fathered by himself? His hands clutch the arms of his chair, and he wonders _why he keeps doing this to himself._

Yuffie has taken Uchikatsu back from Reeve and is gazing down at her. "Somebody's hungry," she says, ignoring the line of conversation that was still trying to convince Vincent to at least look at the baby girl. Yuffie knows his reasoning, and can't say that she blames him. She hadn't expected him to even come, but she knows the gunman's masochistic ways, and does not want to provide him with another outlet of grief. "I'll be upstairs," she announces, slinging a diaper bag over one of her shoulders.

He slips through the shadows to the stairway when everyone else is occupied discussing things which mattered little to the gunman, and trespasses silently on mother and daughter without so much as a knock.

She, of course, knows he is there instantly. "I'm sorry Vincent," she begins, and it seems that is all she ever says.

He looks to the ceiling, almost laughing. "You are happy," he states. "How can you apologize for that?"

She sighs. "I love my daughter, Vincent, but not Rufus."

He cards his hand through his hair, fingers clenching and pulling at the roots. "I _still love you_," he rasps. It is full of apology, because no matter what, he cannot fulfil her last request of him.

"Do you wish you didn't?" she asks, and she turns slightly, revealing the tiny child at her breast, feeding from her mother's milk.

He doesn't need to answer that question, and they both know it. The answer is no, and yet a very resounding _yes_.

Her hand gently caresses the top of her baby's head and she whispers: "I love you too."

He thinks he will go mad: mad with heartache, mad with envy. "_We_ should have been a family," he utters, voice more broken than she has ever heard it.

"Vincent..."

He crouches; hand still in his hair, trying to control all of the wild emotions begging to be released. "I cannot fulfil my promise, Yuffie. I cannot keep the guilt from tarnishing my name. If I had... If I had only... we could have... _she_ would have been _mine_."

"Have you found her yet?"

He looks up, confused, hand slipping from his head.

She smiles softly, and he thinks that even if he had never met her before this moment, if they had never shared the history they shared, he would have fallen in love with her entirely, in that very instant. "Your auburn-haired beauty."

And he suddenly wants very much to punch her in the jaw. "How can you ask such a thing of me?" he hisses. "How can you ask me to _forget__you_?"

If she hadn't been breast-feeding the infant she would have stood to confront him. As it was, her eyes grow steely and dark. "Because I love you, Vincent, and I can't be with you! So I want you to be happy without me. I thought I could make you happy, Vincent, and for a little while maybe I did."

He wants to tell her he _is_ happy, so long as he could love her, but it is a lie. He's miserable and in pain and it _hurts so fucking much._

"But I was selfish, Vinnie."

He sucks in a painful breath when he hears that nickname: one she hasn't used since they had been torn apart in Wutai.

"I was selfish, because I knew I was destined to marry some political power that my father chose for me. I was selfish because I loved you, and I wanted you all to myself, even though I _knew_ one day it would all end."

This time she does stand, and the baby in her arms whimpers at the loss of her food when Yuffie pulls her shirt back down. "I was young, Vincent. You didn't think so, because I was a hell of a lot older than when you first met me, but twenty years old isn't exactly _wise_!"

The child in her arms starts to cry, but Yuffie doesn't tend to her, instead tears of her own tumble down her cheeks. "I went over every option available, Vincent, but it just led to more selfishness. Maybe I could keep you as a lover, force our love into a permanent secrecy, and make you watch me on the arm of another man during the day, make you share me at night with my husband, make you live with the fact that our bastard children would take another man's name.

"I considered running away, making you live the life of a fugitive: the life of the man who stole the White Rose from Wutai, but they were all selfish plans, Vincent, and I couldn't do that to you!"

The child is wailing, and Yuffie's words are coming out in erratic sobs, hardly recognizable as words at all.

"I love—I love—I, I..." She closes her eyes tightly and cries out, sinking slowly to her knees. "I can't hurt you anymore, Vincent! I love you too much, so _please, Leviathan, Vinnie; let me __go__!"_

There is frantic knocking on the door but neither of them answers it: Yuffie and her daughter's cries echo in the small room, and Vincent, still crouching low to the ground, is staring at them both, his face blank.

The door is forced open and Tifa, Reeve, and Rufus flood the room. Tifa sweeps the baby from Yuffie's arms, Reeve looks at Vincent, and Rufus drops to his knees before his wife.

"Scotch?" Reeve suggests, hand landing solidly on the gunslinger's shoulder. The tone in his voice leaves little room for argument. Vincent slowly stands, but pauses, looking back at the woman crying into Rufus' pristine white jacket.

She senses his gaze and looks up, eyes memorizing his crimson orbs, just in case it is the last time she will ever see them.

She mouths 'I love you' over her husband's shoulder.

A slight frown tugs at Vincent's lips and he turns away, following Reeve down into the bar. He does not bother to stay for the promised scotch, knowing full well one or more of the men would be demanding an explanation, instead walking directly from the bottom of the staircase out the front entrance of the bar.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

_We may not be happy, but we can be slightly less sad._

* * *

The next time she sees him, Katsu is a few years older, six to be exact, and is a strikingly beautiful child with her mother's dark hair and her father's crystal blue eyes. "We're going to see your uncles and aunts," Yuffie explains patiently for the third time.

"But Uncle Reno's right here," she declares, still confused.

Reno leans back in the limo seat, ruffling the girl's hair with a slight smirk.

"You have other aunts and uncles, Katsu," Rufus says. His hand is on his wife's knee, and she no longer shrinks away at his touch.

"You mean Aunt Elena and Uncle Tseng?"

Yuffie smiles and laughs. "Them too, sweetie, but I mean Aunt Tifa and Uncle Reeve."

"Uncle Reeve!?" the girl exclaims, eyes lighting up.

"And Aunt Shera and Uncle Cid."

"Really!?"

"And do you remember uncle Barret?"

The girl makes a slight face, trying to think. "Not really."

"How about uncle Cloud?"

Katsu giggles. "He looks like a chocobo."

"What about Vincent?" Rufus adds. Yuffie's smile fades.

"I'm not sure he'll be there," Yuffie says, trying her best to make it sound like an observation based on Vincent's past record of showing up to these events and not that his absence is due to her.

When they arrive, she is surprised to find he is there. She tries desperately to quell the familiar desire to cry and offers him a small wave as she walks past him into Tifa's bar.

The corners of his lips lift and he nods to her.

Her heart nearly leaps out of her chest, and she feels like she's sixteen again.

Katsu is being taught how to play cards by Marlene and Reno in another room, and Rufus is casually chatting with Cid in the far corner. Tifa is behind the bar washing dishes, and Reeve is teaching a now adolescent Denzel how to complete a circuit board for the teen's college course.

Yuffie sits down on a stool and taps the wooden counter.

Tifa materializes instantly, making the ninja smile warmly. "Think a gal can get a drink around these parts?"

Tifa smirks. "Maybe. What can I do ya for?"

"Diet coke?"

The friends laugh and Tifa disappears to retrieve one. Yuffie's attention is on the grain of the table, more so as she tries to ignore the feeling in the bottom of her stomach, the one that always alerted her to his impending presence.

"She's not an artist."

Yuffie's eyebrows furrow, but she doesn't look back at him. Instead, he seats himself beside her at the bar. "The auburn-haired beauty," he explains.

Her heart thumps painfully, but she flashes him a smile. "Circus performer?"

He snorts. "Bookstore owner."

It's her turn to snort. "You _would_." She flashes Tifa a reassuring smile when she hesitantly returns with Yuffie's can of soda. She can't blame her for her worry, the last time she had seen Yuffie and Vincent in the same room together it had not ended well. Vaguely, Yuffie wonders if the martial artist had ever had a hunch about their relationship. She cracks open her can and pours it into the provided glass.

Upon her request, he explains the details of how he met this woman, and how, after noticing her auburn coloured hair, he had been driven by his promise to Yuffie to ask her out for coffee. It had backfired—apparently said auburn-haired beauty (whose name Yuffie didn't care to remember) wasn't a coffee drinker. "What about green tea?" she had suggested, just before he left the store.

"I'm really happy for you, Vincent," she says, patting his hand.

His fingers twitch beneath her touch, and he has to force himself not to grab her hand and press a hot kiss to her palm. He takes a breath, closes his eyes and remembers his most recent evening spent helping Lily re-categorize the science section of her little book store; remembers the way she had clumsily toppled over while carrying a stack of books too tall for her to see over.

It occurs to him that he is enamoured with her for the same reasons he is in love with Yuffie. Or rather, he is more likely enamoured with her because she _reminds_ him of Yuffie.

Yuffie continues their conversation with stories about Katsu, her apparent distaste for martial arts and her gravitation toward her studies. "She's a smart kid; must get it from Rufus, cuz' she sure as hell didn't get it from me."

She talks about Wutai, and how things are getting better for the once cultural wasteland. She talks about Dao Chao and Leviathan, and how she thinks Leviathan's been upset with her, because it's been raining an awful lot, and she's concerned for the grain harvest.

"How is Rufus?" he asks; eyes lifting from the bar top.

She looks at her fingers as though they were the most interesting things on the planet. "He's doing well." She pauses, takes a breath and continues. "Keeping busy—you know he and Reeve are starting a new branch of the WRO to help with Barret's interest in alternative energy sources. I've heard him talking about this thing called ethanol: apparently you can run engines off it, and you make the stuff out of corn. Of course, I don't know the logistics of it, I'll leave that to Reeve, but what I do know is that Wutai has perfect conditions for growing corn. Could you imagine, Vinnie? A renewable resource at Wutai's fingertips, and we can export to all the continents."

He smiles, proud of her.

Yuffie pauses and returns to his original question. "He's fine, Vincent." She chuckles lightly. "You know he's not as bad as I thought he'd be?"

His hand covers hers and squeezes it slightly.

"He loves Katsu, and is a wonderful father to her. He takes her with him to the office sometimes, and he's stopped working weekends almost entirely." She swallows, and looks over at the man beside her. "But he's not _you_."

His fingers squeeze hers once more. "She isn't you either. She's a distraction."

"Are you happy?"

"Not without you," he replies quickly, but when she turns to insist he move on, he stills her with a finger in the air. "However," he continues. "However, I can look at you without feeling like I've been ripped in half again. I can look at Rufus and see that he is taking care of you, and not have to suppress my instinct to decapitate him anymore. I see Katsu and I see the strength and beauty of her mother, and I am happy for you."

Yuffie smiles, and she feels a great deal of weight lift from her shoulders. "I'm happy for you, too, Vincent," she says. "And I will _always_ be in love with you."

He nods, and his hand leaves hers. "I love you too, Yuffie," he sighs. "It used to tear me apart that we could not be together: I felt entitled to it, but..." he paused, finding the words. "It is enough to know you love me, Yuffie. I can be happy knowing you love me." His eyes close briefly, composing himself, before he stands. "I wanted, needed, to see you, Yuffie, but I have to go," he states. He gently cups her face in his hand. "Meet me in Kalm, and we can do this again."

Yuffie's eyebrows rise. "Do what?"

He smiles gorgeously. "Talk," he says; eyes warm as he turns and begins heading toward the door.

In a panic the ninja jumps from her stool and calls out to him, ignoring the mass of other people in the room. "Vincent, wait!"

He turns at the door.

"Do you wish you didn't?"

A genuine smile lifts the corners of his mouth, and he tosses the hair out of his eyes. "No, Yuffie. I don't."

She laughs a little, blinking back tears as he turns and leaves the bar.

"Where's he going?" Cloud asks, over the rim of his beer can.

Yuffie laughs breathlessly. "To fuck a circus performer," she replies.

And laughs again.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

The last time he sees her, she isn't Yuffie anymore. She's a frail shell of what used to be Yuffie, taken over by the effects of disease.

His son follows him as he nears the pagoda, trying to keep up with his father's long strides. Lily and their daughter are still in Kalm.

"Geeze, dad, slow down," the teen complains, chasing him up the stairs and into the building.

They are met in the main hall by Rufus and his daughters, Uchikatsu and Shitsuren, now twenty-five and seventeen years old. Uchikatsu holds herself like a born leader, her beautiful blue eyes shining like steel. Shitsuren carries herself with the lethal poise of a ninja; her short-shorts and tank top reminiscent of her mother's adolescence.

Eighteen year-old Sage stops just short of his father, his crimson eyes wide as the Ruling head of Wutai, the legendary Rufus Shinra, humbly greets the gunslinger.

"Thank you for coming, Valentine," the blond begins. "May I assume this is your son?"

Vincent steps back half a step, his hand landing heavily on the boy's shoulder. "Sage Valentine," he introduces.

Rufus offers him a diplomatic smile. "These are my daughters," he returns, gesturing that the girls come to stand by him. Katsu's long dark hair is free and hangs to her waist and Shitsuren's is braided over her shoulder. They both bow to their guests, the younger slightly more regretfully than her sister.

Vincent gazes upon them fondly. He's met them both before, but only when they were children. Since then his encounters with Yuffie had been one-on-one. Coffee in Kalm, dinner in Edge, a drink at Tifa's bar. Still, it felt like he knew them intimately: Yuffie's stories about her girls were always vivid and detailed.

"_Shitsuren could kick the shit out of even you, Vinnie." _Looking at her now, all legs and attitude, he almost believed it.

"She's been asking for you," Rufus says softly. His age is showing; it manifests in the depths of his tired eyes that had once been a radiant, clear blue.

Vincent's lips twist into a frown. "May I see her?"

The younger man nods, gesturing to his eldest daughter. "Please take Mr. Valentine to see your mother," he says.

He's led away, but his son stays. "C'mon," says Shitsuren, taking the hint from her father. "I'll show you the garden."

Vincent follows the girl, now woman, through winding corridors. He is reminded of nights spent silently weaving through these hallways, avoiding being spotted as he crept into the forbidden chambers of the Princess.

He catches the new princess looking over her shoulder at him, curiously.

"Do you remember me at all?" he asks quietly, surprising her.

Her graceful steps falter slightly, but she keeps moving. "I remember your name," she replies. "My mother tells me a lot of things about you."

"Hn." His eyes fall to the floor.

"I was named after you," she continues. "Uchikatsu, it means 'to conquer' in Wutaiin. Vincent means the same, does it not?"

He nods his head in accord.

"My sister, her name means unrequited love."

Vincent swallowed. "It is a pretty name," he says awkwardly.

Katsu laughs, and it borders on manic, just like her mother's. "I've already put two and two together, Mr. Valentine." They rounded a corner. "Of course I was upset when I first figured it out. I was sixteen years old and I didn't know who I hated more: My mother, for not loving my father like I thought she had? Or you, for not being there to make my mother happy."

They stop in front of a sliding shoji door, and Vincent opens his mouth, trying to explain.

"It's okay," she says, smiling at him. It is her mother's smile through and through. "I was young. I didn't understand—she must have known I'd figured it out, because that's when the stories started."

He gazes at the door as he listens to her, holding his breath. He can hear Yuffie coughing, hear her fragile lungs giving out.

"She went to see you at least once a month. I was sure you two were having an affair, but she kept offering to bring me along. _'Oh, we won't tell your father: what is a few days away from school anyway, huh? Uncle Vincent will want to see how tall you've gotten.'_"

He smirks, remembering Yuffie complaining about children not knowing what fun is anymore. "_She wanted to stay behind so she wouldn't get behind on her math lessons_. _What the fuck, Vinnie. What. The. Fuck."_

"May I see her?" he croaks.

Katsu smiles again and nods, dropping to her knees and sliding the door open, then quietly removing herself.

For many, many years he's been strong for her, he's smiled for her, and he had done his best to live happily, allowing himself to have her only platonically. He's fulfilled his promises: he no longer blames himself for what _could have been_, and his wife and children have, on occasion, almost relieved the ever present longing he has and will always harbour for the Wutaiin Ninja. Yet as he moves silently into the room, standing at the end of her futon, looking down at her small, sickly, dying body, he cannot pretend he is anything close to happy.

Her eyes flutter open wearily. "Vinnie, is that you?"

He can't find his voice, dumbly staring, scared shitless, at the ghostly woman before him. "Yes, Yuffie," he manages.

She coughs, but her lips still curl into a smile. "What took you so long?"

She is ever infuriating. "You sent for me _yesterday_."

The smile is more of a grin now, as mischievous as it had been when she was sixteen years old, swiping materia from his pockets.

"I would have come sooner, Yuffie, if I had only known..."

She weakly raises a hand and waves him away. "No, no, Vince. If I wanted you here to see me all pathetic, I would have told Katsu to call earlier. No, this is perfect. The worst of it's over; I'm just packing my bags now."

His eyebrows furrow. "What? Yuffie, you cannot travel in your condition, don't be ridiculous."

She laughs at the ceiling, and he is enlightened all too bluntly of her morbid joke. He scoffs. "Don't joke about that."

Yet she laughs between coughs, grinning, clearly pleased with her ability to get a rise out of the gunslinger. "C'mere, Vincent," she says once her laughter dies.

He hesitantly moves to the side of the bed, and kneels next to her.

She closes her eyes and gropes around for his hand, holding it close to her chest that rose and fell heavily with every laboured breath. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner last week," she said, as if it _mattered_.

A frown creases his forehead and he gently pets her hair, letting her hang onto his other hand for dear life. "It's alright, Yuffie."

She coughs. "How is Lily?"

"Very well," he replies.

"The kids?"

"Aurore passed her chemistry class level. Those memory tricks for formulas you told me to teach her worked." He's not sure why he is bothering to tell her this, when all he wants is to beg her not to leave him, but whenever they were together, to keep from voicing the pain, the sorrow, the fear, the sadness; they had talked about their children.

Yuffie cracks another smile. "I knew she could do it." Her hand tightens on his when another fit of coughs shake her small frame. "How's Sage? It's been years since I've seen him. Is he a looker' like his father?"

Vincent snorts quietly. "He's here in Wutai. I believe he and Shitsuren have gone to visit the gardens."

The dying girl smiles. "Oh, my little Shi. Guard your heart, my daughter, those Valentines are bad news."

He can't help but smirk.

Yuffie's eyes open and she peers at him. "Vincent..."

"Yes, Yuffie?"

Her free hand reaches up and touches his face, a caress he has not felt from her in many long years. It still tingles like it had the first time, though now her fingers are cold instead of warm. "I've missed you, my friend, and I will miss you."

His hand tightens on hers. "Yuffie, don't—"

She closes her eyes and her chest heaves a little. "Vincent, I'm dying."

He shakes his head. "You can't, Yuffie."

Her fingers slide into his hair and weakly grip it at the roots, drawing him closer. Her eyes reopen and he is face to face with the beautiful silver orbs he dreams of, not so often as he once did, but enough to know their image is eternally branded in his mind's eye. "I can, Vincent," she protests. "And I'm going to." Her next breath is frighteningly shallow, and he is suddenly possessed with the urge to kiss her, in all of her fifty years: slightly greying hair, lines around the eyes. She is pale and sick and all together too skinny, but she is beautiful. He wants to kiss her and breathe life back into her lungs.

"Please, Yuffie," he shifts himself so he is sitting on the bed beside her, and leans over her, his long dark hair curtaining around them as his forehead touches hers. "Please."

She is smiling again, and wraps a lock of his hair around her fingers. "Hardly any grey," she says, amazed. "You must dye it."

He is very much afraid that if he laughs, it will come out as a cry, and fervently kisses her brow, eyes clenching closed. "You're too young," he reasons, trying to convince fate.

She holds him close to her, heart fluttering in her chest. "I lived my life, Vincent, and it's over now. I'm sorry we couldn't be together," she murmurs, "but if we were I would have never had my girls."

He releases a shuddering breath.

"Did you see them?" she asks. "Did you see my babies?"

"Yes," he replies. "They are beautiful, Yuffie, just like their mother."

She smiles weakly. "I'm so sorry, Vincent. I'm sorry they weren't yours, but I'm not sorry I had them. I was happy, being a mother to those girls, I was happy leading Wutai; I was happy having you as my best friend, Vincent." Her fingers clutch at his scalp. "I was happy when you were happy, Vincent."

"Please, Yuffie, please stay with me," he can't make sense of the words he is saying: he just talks, and talks, and hopes to Leviathan he is listening. "I can't be happy if you're not with me."

She laughs, though it is choked by the sounds of her coughing and the heartbreaking sight of tears on her cheeks. "Of course you can, Vincent."

He shakes his head, nose bumping hers. "No, no, no, I can't, no, Yuffie, no."

She holds him closer, tighter, arms wrapping around his neck. "_I still love you_," she whispers directly into his ear.

He remembers most vividly the smile on her face when he professed to her, at Tifa's bar almost twenty years ago now, that as long as he knew she loved him, he could be happy. Almost twenty years ago now, not so long after Chaos had left him and long before the concept of reinstated mortality entered his capacity of thought. She was a ball of life, so young, so untouched by time.

Her silver streaked hair and body riddled with illness begs to differ now.

His eyes widen when he feels her arms constrict around his neck and her body heaves up off of the mattress as she coughs again. He feels moisture on his cheek and lifts his hand to find that it is blood. "Yuffie!" His arms circle her and he lifts her, sitting in the centre of her bed and cradling her in his arms.

"S'ok, Vinnie; that happens a lot." Her fingers wipe at the splattered fluid on his face, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that."

His eyes are wide, terrified.

"You remember what you said, don't you?"

He holds her closer, curling over her, burying his head in her neck. "This is different, Yuffie. I can't do it if you're not here with me." His jaw trembles when he realizes what all he's losing: A lover, a friend, a life preserver. "You saved me, you're still saving me. I need you, Yuffie."

She coughs weakly, fingers tangling in his hair again. "I can't save you from this, Vincent," she says quietly. "I'm so sorry." She coughs again, and this time it shakes her entire body, and she doesn't recover. Her breath is coming shallower now, soft wheezing noises indicating her struggle to draw breath.

Vincent's eyes are wide, fearful, and agonizingly beautiful. She looks up into them, memorizing them, because she knows this is the last time she will ever see him.

Somewhere in the background, the gunslinger vaguely determines there is now someone else in the room. And though he wishes he hadn't, he hears himself say, "Call her husband and daughters, there's not much time now."

* * *

A/N: _This one is a bit of a two-part with the next chapter, I will update it sooner than usual._


	8. Chapter 8

Shitsuren glances up from the rose bed, smiling at her sister's approaching figure, but the grin quickly fades when she sees her grim expression. She stands, ignoring (mostly) the look of concern in the Valentine boy's garnet eyes. "Katsu?"

"You need to come," she says, moving swiftly into the garden, but she turns back to the pagoda, expecting the adolescents to follow.

They do, without question, both understanding the urgency and necessity. Sage is following quickly on the ninja's heels, listening to her whisper to herself as her pace gets quicker. "Please, Mama, hang on." It's followed by a sniff and her hand reaches up to quickly wipe away a treacherous tear.

When her hand falls back to her side, Sage's fingers wrap around it, and though she shoots him a look that dares him to continue living, he flashes a reassuring smile, and they enter the pagoda together.

Their mother's bedroom seems unusually small when they appear. The girls see their father sitting on the edge of the futon, hand gently soothing her feverish brow. Sage's eyes are drawn elsewhere, to his father's lone figure standing with his back against the wall, a grief-stricken expression on his face.

She's frail and she's obviously trying desperately hard to keep breathing, and yet she's yelling at the man currently caressing her. "I mean it, Rufus, you have to keep your promise."

He nods, again and again. "I told you Yuffie, your word will be upheld."

She seems to relax, and sighs. "Thank you, Rufus." She coughs, but smiles a little. "You be good to my Wutai, okay?"

He smirks. "Of course."

She smiles gratefully and takes his hand, squeezing it. "Are the girls here?"

Rufus glances over his shoulder to check, then nods. Yuffie raises her hand and beckons them, and immediately Katsu runs to the bed. Shitsuren hesitates a moment, glancing at the young man beside her.

He squeezes her hand before letting her go.

"Hi babies," Yuffie whispers when her daughters come into her line of sight. Uchikatsu smiles back through watery eyes, and Shitsuren holds her mother's hand. "Mama's really tired, girls."

Katsu brushes Yuffie's hair from her feverish forehead.

"I want you both to know that you are the most important things in the world to me, and that if I could, I would stay here for you." She coughs, but waves away Shitsuren's attempt to call the doctor. "It's okay, Shi, my little ninja. You girls can take care of yourselves now; you're all grown up, strong, beautiful, smart women." She closes her eyes, too tired to keep them open any longer. "I'm so proud of you both," she whispers.

"Goodbye mom," the girls say, each kissing their mother's face. It's not so hard now, they've been saying their goodbyes for a week now: every time they leave the room, in case when they come back their mother is gone.

"I love you, my princesses," she says, but her voice is so faint it can hardly be heard.

"Mom?"

"It's okay sweetheart." She begins to cough again, and blood trickles down her chin.

"Dad, what do I do?"

Yuffie can hear the panic in her eldest daughter's voice, but she cannot summon the energy to reassure her. She can't even find the reassurance herself, and a shudder of fear grips her. "Vincent..."

Sage's eyes shift from the dying woman to his father, who had stiffened at his name being said.

"I am here, Yuffie."

She is too weak to lift her arm to reach for him, and she softly whimpers his name again.

The girls are beckoned to their father's side, and they go reluctantly, watching with grieving eyes as the gunslinger approaches the bed and kneels next to their dying mother.

Her arm flings out weakly and she touches his knee, her fingers curling around the material of his trousers, trying to tug him closer.

He moves to sit on the edge.

Her fingers slide up his shirt and grasp it as tightly as they can. He is pulled down to her level.

"Say goodbye, Vincent," she whispers, but in the silence of the moment, everyone can hear.

"I can't."

Rufus looks away when his wife is drawn into the arms of this man, as the gunslinger lies beside the broken ninja and their foreheads touch.

"Say goodbye."

"Yuffie..."

She is rasping for breath now, and it sounds like a horribly painful ordeal, and yet his arms circle her like if he physically held on, she couldn't leave.

Stubborn, like usual, she waits for him; she waits like she waited for him to forgive himself, she waits like she waited for him to accept her love. She waits like she waited when he needed to move on.

She is struggling for air, hugging him like a life preserver. "Please Vincent, give me peace. Let me go."

"I love you," he says, he _moans_ because the pleasure and the pain are corroding his soul. He has never felt elation the same as loving Yuffie, and yet he has never felt so much pain due to that very same thing.

"I love you too, Vinnie." She pauses, and a tremor shakes her: a shiver from the lack of heat in her dying body, a tremble of fear as death waits impatiently for her to give up. "I'm scared," Yuffie utters.

"So am I."

"Talk to me, Vinnie," she whispers. Her eyes are closed and her face is pressed against his chest. "Take my mind off it."

"Don't leave me."

"Vincent." Her voice is surprisingly firm. "I can't help it. I don't want to leave you. I don't want to leave my girls; I don't want to die, Vincent. I love you, Vincent, and I'm so sorry."

He says nothing.

"Talk to me," she says. "To take my mind off of the pain of loving _you_."

His eyes close and his lips touch the top of her head. "Do you wish you didn't?"

She sobs. "No."

He pets her hair lovingly and sighs, attempting to divert her mind. "What did you make Rufus promise you?"

He is surprised when she sobs again.

"Yuffie?"

She kisses whatever part of him is closest and whimpers. "I made him promise that the girls..." she coughs and cries at the same time. "I made him promise the girls could—could marry whoever..."

Vincent's eyes snap open, and his arms tighten on her.

"Whoever they choose." She's coughing more and more, and there is blood on the front of his shirt. "But Vincent," she whispers. "Even if they spend their lives with the men they love..." She puts her hand over his heart. "One day, they will have to say goodbye too."

"I can't, Yuffie. You are _my reason_."

She attempts a weak laugh, but it comes out as a cough. "No, I'm not Vinnie, I just helped you find your reason. You have love and you have a life, even if I'm not a part of these things. You have your Auburn-Haired-Beauty and your two beautiful children. _They_ are your reason."

He stares at her for a long moment, and then kisses her forehead and her eyelids and her cheeks and finally her blood stained lips, for the first time in over twenty years. "I will never forget you."

She smiles slightly. "How could you? I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie. It's time to say goodbye, Vincent."

His eyes reflect his pain. "Give me time, Yuffie..."

Still stubborn even on the brink of death she sighs. "I haven't got much to give, Vinnie." Yet he holds her for hours, listening as her breathing gets shallower and shallower. People come and go, but no one tries to disturb them, not even Sage, who has so many questions needing to be answered.

In the silence of their embrace, he contemplates everything. Every instance she had saved him from any facet of his life. The times she propelled him forward, held him back, endangered him, saved him. Every smile, every laugh, every touch, every kiss.

He knows it is getting harder for her to hold on.

"_It hurts so fucking much," she admits, her hand tangling in his hair. She pulls him close and plants a desperate kiss on his forehead. "But I..."_

_"Don't say it," he hisses. His hand reaches up and a finger slips over her lips. "Please don't say it."_

_"Love you," she mumbles around it, cool grey eyes holding his._

"I love you, Yuffie." It is the first words he's spoken in over an hour, and groggily she opens her eyes.

"Love you too, Vinnie."

He thinks of Lily, of Sage, of Aurore. He thinks of Yuffie's speech to Reno all those years ago. He thinks of providence and fate and karma and he wonders if she was an angel sent to guide him. He finds it's getting harder for him to hold on, and wonders if now she has to go home because her work saving him is through.

His lips press against her forehead and stay there as he whispers: "I will miss you, my white rose. Goodbye."

She seems to find relief in this and she relaxes, allowing him to unwind his arms from around her and remove himself from the bed. His hair is a mess and his clothing stained with the woman's blood as he moves away from her, and is confronted by Rufus.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, understanding what it feels like to see one's love in the arms of another.

Rufus, for his part, doesn't say anything in malice, and Vincent wonders if he knew more than he should have for much longer than he thought, for the hand that claps his shoulder is one of comfort.

Still, he passes by him and sits dutifully by his wife, calming her, cooing to her.

They stayed that way until morning. Vincent stood at the edge of the room, and Rufus and his daughters circled their mother, waiting for the inevitable moment to arrive.

Although he tries to ignore it, the gunslinger can pinpoint the exact moment when his beloved stops breathing. His own heart stops for a moment, but it keeps beating: a testament to his life without her.

When he is given time in the morning to say his final goodbye, her body is no longer warm against his fingers. It is cold and lifeless, while he is warm. His son stands, distantly frowning, yet somehow sympathetic in the hallway when Vincent brings himself to leave the shell of what had once been Yuffie. He sees the silent tear drop on his father's face, and he isn't sure if he should feel betrayed, disgusted, or sorry.

"Dad?" Sage's lips are tugged into a frown. "Did you love her?"

He owes him miles of explanation, but all he can offer is a quiet shake of his head.

_He can't (but he tries, gods, he tries) stop himself from feeling it._

"It hurts."

The look of hurt in his son's eyes hurts. The guilt weighing heavily on his third left finger hurts. The fresh memory of his dying lover's plea for him to let her go hurts.

_So fucking much._

_

* * *

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A/N: _Well, thats all guys. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it._


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